“I don’t understand.”
“From what I have overheard, I imagine there is a plot on foot to make you lose the race.”
“What sort of a plot?”
“I can’t say.”
The young oarsman gazed at his chum in perplexity.
“What have you heard? I don’t know what to make of this.”
“You know Wash Crosby?”
“Yes. He is Si Peters’ toady.”
“Well, I heard him tell Browling that it was a dead sure thing Si would win.”
“That might have been mere blowing.”